by C. J. Lake
Really, she couldn't have it both ways. She could hardly sell face-saving aloofness if she was going to berate him like an angry girlfriend. This was why she hadn't wanted to get into the Juliana thing with Mick in the first place! Cady was a hot mess where Mick was concerned, and clearly, on it went.
Now she sucked in a breath. Deliberately straightened her shoulders and neutralized her expression. She kept her voice crisp as she stated: “It's not a big drama. I never said it was. And...it's not like we even had a commitment, per se...” She cleared her throat, realizing that the more remote her tone of voice, the more in control she felt. “We didn't discuss being exclusive or anything. So, please, it's not like you have to show up here and give me some big story.”
“Christ, Cady!” Mick barked as he rose from the bench. “I'm not coming here with some 'big story'—I'm telling you the truth!” Visibly frustrated now, Mick scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. When he spoke again, his tone was calmer, more even. “Please listen to me: I never cheated on you.”
She tried to go for a self-assured shrug. “Well, technically it wouldn't be cheating if we never had a clear agreement—”
“Stop it, all right? Just cut the shit, Cady.”
Flustered, she said, “You don't have to get so angry!”
“Yes I do! Because you make my blood boil—you make me crazy! Why are you acting like we didn't have a relationship? Yes we fucking did,” Mick said, enunciating the words.
For a second, she froze, feeling physically overwhelmed by the intensity of this moment, by the fury and passion in his dark eyes.
When Cady just stood there, wordlessly, trying to suppress a chaotic firestorm of emotions, something changed between them. Maybe it was her silence or her posture or the slash of her mouth, but Mick suddenly gave up.
“Or at least I thought we did,” he said quietly. Then he stepped back; for the first time since he'd arrived tonight, he was moving away from her. A hard lump rose in Cady's throat, as Mick remarked, “But I can see that you don't even believe me. Here I'm swearing to you that I never cheated on you. It was all a mistake—a lie. But...” He shook his head, as his eyes searched her face with disappointment. “Wow, you still don't believe me, do you?”
Cady's heart pounded harder, her stomach knotted up. Ambivalence was painful—paralyzing. She wanted to believe him. It actually terrified her how much she wanted to be with Mick. Yet, she desperately wanted to avoid making the mistake she'd made with Wes—overlooking red flags, only to be emotionally decimated later—and that meant cutting bait with Mick now since, in all likelihood, he had cheated on her, but was trying to cover his tracks.
But...what if he wasn't?
What if she was making a huge mistake?
Mick's expression was hard, as he took another step toward the door. “You know what, Cady, I think you're right, actually. There was no relationship here,” he said coldly. “You don't trust me at all. I guess I didn't realize that.”
With that, Mick left.
The silence suddenly in the apartment seemed oppressive. It felt like failure. Cady slumped down on the bench seat again, mentally replaying the conversation, absorbing what had happened. Trying to make sense of this horrible feeling of regret that was twisting in her—and the painful thought that she'd said too much, and yet chickened out at the same time.
Chapter Fifty
The next morning Cady woke up in a state of turmoil. It had been an awful, restless night, with sleep that was fragmented and dreams that were troubled, and when the sun finally snapped open her eyes, Cady flew up in bed, trying to escape a nightmare.
Like most dreams, it was a surreal canvas of illogic. This one featured a circus—also Rubik's Cube wallpaper, an espionage plot, and a cameo from someone Cady had met back at Chess Camp—but what had happened at the end was what really shook her. In her dream, she'd gone to check the mail and found a postcard waiting. It was an advertisement for Mademoiselle Gigi's fortune-telling business. The card read: 10% off through Valentine's Day. It's not too late (unless, for you, it is)!
Dear God, Cady thought now, scouring her room for her phone, what have I done? Finally, she found her cell on the bookcase. She scooped it up, eager to call Mick. She had to talk to him before it really was too late.
She asked herself how she could let him walk away last night. Why had she not given him the benefit of the doubt? Of course a lot of guys were players—Ember and other friends had shared plenty of stories over the years of guys they'd liked who'd lied about not seeing anyone else. Or guys who had stopped calling. Or charming boys who were unapologetic slaves to their testosterone. Then there were the ones who wanted a solid relationship—like Wes—but still grew restless and disinterested.
But how did any of that fit Mick? she thought now. Was she really going to write him off—to diminish what they had shared so far—simply because she was afraid that, in the end, he would turn out to be one of those guys?
This was what it came down to: it was one thing to damn a person in your mind, to dismiss and disbelieve him in theory. It was another when he was standing right in front of you. Looking into your eyes, pleading his case. That was when you made a decision. Once and for all, do you trust this person? When Cady thought back to her conversation with Mick—reflecting on his body language, his voice, his eyes—and in turn, trusting what all her instincts were telling her... She realized that yes, she did trust him. She did believe him.
Now, if only she could talk to him.
With her stomach sinking, Cady listened as Mick's phone went straight to voicemail. Damn it—how could she reach him? If he'd turned his phone off, not only was talking out, but there was no point texting, either.
Not wanting to ramble on his voicemail, Cady opted instead to try him again in fifteen minutes.
Mick's phone was still off when Cady called again, this time wrapped in a towel, still dripping from her shower.
Then again, after she'd gotten dressed and brewed a cup of coffee.
Each time, the call went straight to voicemail, and her anxiety levels ticked upwards. It wasn't logical; it was fear-driven. That palpable sense of something slipping farther away with each passing minute.
Forget this, Cady thought, frustrated, shoving her cell in her pocket. She would just go to Mick's apartment. Of course she would rather talk to him first, to feel out the situation, to get confirmation from him that he even wanted to see her right now. But with his phone off, that wasn't an option.
Neither was sitting around with this lump of concrete in her stomach.
They had to settle this—to fix this mess so they could be together again. After Mick left last night, Cady had been very troubled by doubt. It only grew stronger and more torturous as the hours marched by. The fact was, the whole Juliana-is-an-undercover-virgin thing was just as possible as anything else. Come on, when it came down to it, there was no good reason not to believe Mick.
And comparing him to Wes actually made no sense, when Cady stopped to think about it. What she felt for Mick was so much more intense, the passion went so much deeper... It was like comparing an immature crush to a love.
She nearly gulped at the idea. Love... That simple word seemed weightier to her now than it ever had—clearer and more meaningful. She had told Wes she loved him many times and was pretty sure she'd meant it. Yet, why hadn't her affection for Wes felt this imperative—this tormenting?
Now her racing heart seemed to set the pace for her feet. Impatiently, Cady grabbed her jacket, snapped up her keys, wrapped her wool scarf loosely around her neck. When she unbolted the door, she yanked it open with the force of her determination—only to jump back with surprise when she found someone waiting on the other side.
“Hey, Cady...do you remember me?”
She hesitated for a moment, never expecting to find Juliana on her doorstep.
Juliana offered an unsteady smile, adding, “Sorry to just barge in on you so early.”
“How did you know where I
lived?” Cady asked. In retrospect, it was probably rude to start off with that—a confrontation instead of a welcome—especially when Juliana's demeanor was so sweet. Yet Cady's negative feelings toward this girl still lingered. After all, she was the catalyst for this whole debacle. Okay, so maybe Juliana hadn't meant for this to blow up, and yes, most of what had ensued was technically Cady's fault. But still.
“You mentioned that you lived in the Gatewood Building.”
“Oh, right,” Cady murmured, recalling their brief scrap of small talk on the night they met at Polar.
“I checked the resident directory downstairs, and this apartment was the only one that had the first initial 'C,'” Juliana explained, “so I took a chance.”
Nodding, Cady debated inviting her in; of course basic manners demanded that she did. But, honestly, to what end?
“Do you have a second to talk?” Juliana asked. “It won't take long, but I wanted to clear the air with you about Mick. Please, it's important.”
“Sure,” Cady finally replied, “come in.”
Apprehension pulled at her as Juliana entered her apartment. She supposed she wasn't sure what to expect—and for a second Cady panicked that Juliana might tell a different story than Mick had.
No, Cady thought, firmly squelching the idea. It wouldn't happen, she decided. She was taking a leap of faith, but nevertheless, Cady had made up her mind that Mick was telling the truth.
~
Juliana kept to her word and didn't stay long. Thank goodness, because with each moment that slipped by, Cady felt more urgent to see Mick.
Everything Juliana said backed up what Mick had tried to explain to Cady last night. Hearing it directly from the girl was reaffirming, though, and almost touching. She seemed genuinely concerned, guilt-stricken by the idea that she'd messed up Mick's relationship, and Cady knew that it was a big gesture for her even to show up here. Juliana could have trotted home for winter break and forgotten the whole thing.
Forty minutes later, Cady was coming to the end of a bumpy train ride, standing at the front of the T, waiting for it to grind to a halt in front of Mick's street. She had already dinged the bell for the stop, and the moment the train doors flung open, she hopped down the steps.
Soon she was jogging across the busy intersection before an onslaught of traffic could flatten her, and hurrying toward Mick's building.
She'd tried several more times to reach him, but all of her calls went straight to his voicemail. Honestly, it was strange...and Cady was starting to get worried.
God, was Mick okay? Not to be panicky, but it just seemed odd for his phone to be off. Obviously if he'd wanted to avoid Cady, he could just duck her calls. Why be unreachable to everyone else? She supposed his phone could have died. But where would Mick be that he couldn't have charged it up by now?
You're over-thinking, she reminded herself, distinctly annoyed by this persistent trait of hers. Especially as it frequently caused her misery.
Cady rode the elevator to Mick's floor, then strode quickly down the hallway. Finally, when she was standing in front of his apartment, she was struck with an attack of nerves. She honestly wasn't sure what Mick's reaction would be to her standing there. He had looked at her so coolly when he left her place last night. God, what if he was already over her? With a worried lump in her throat, she prayed that wasn't the case. And that he was home—alone.
There was no answer after her first knock. Cady waited a minute or two, then knocked again.
Nothing.
With a sigh, she dropped her head back, as if cursing the ceiling. Really—what timing. Four roommates and none of them home.
Then again, winter break had already started for most people, Cady reminded herself. Only those with a final exam scheduled for this morning would be hanging around. Wait—an exam! Hadn't Brandall said something yesterday about Mick having to study? Of course, how could Cady have forgotten that? Now she was relieved; an exam would easily explain why Mick had shut his phone off this morning.
Of course, that still didn't tell her when he'd be home. All final exams ended this morning by 11:30. But what if Mick went to grab lunch afterward or something? He could be gone for hours. Cady toyed restlessly with her scarf, pondering: So what now?
Again, she checked her phone. It was only 10:06. She was too tense to sit patiently outside Mick's door and wait (also, it would make her feel sort of pathetic, like a scolded puppy). Yet, she couldn't stand to go back home and twiddle her thumbs.
Then Cady recalled Linda mentioning that she would be cleaning out her condo this week and doing some packing. At this point, she was living with Brandall, but still had a lot of stuff at her condo, which she intended to put up for sale soon. In passing, she had encouraged Cady to drop by since the condo was right in Boston, near school.
Seeing Linda would actually be the perfect distraction while Cady waited for Mick to become reachable again—and certainly a more appealing way to fill the morning than watching the clock and continually hitting “redial.”
Chapter Fifty-one
Linda seemed genuinely happy to see her, and surprised that Cady had actually taken her up on the offer to stop by while she was packing. “Please, come in! Here, sit down—oh, you can just shove those boxes out of the way. Want some coffee? Or something to eat? I still have crackers in the cabinet, or—”
“Oh, no, I'm good,” Cady assured her, gently nudging over a folded stack of sweaters to take a seat on the sofa. “I hope I'm not bothering you.”
“Of course not!” her stepmom insisted. “I'm thrilled you had a chance to see this place. I always loved this condo,” Linda commented, looking around at the overstuffed furniture and colorful tapestries with a bittersweet kind of fondness. “I know it's tiny, but...”
“No, it's cozy,” Cady assured her, meaning it.
Linda gave a laugh. “Cozy, yeah. That's a better word for it.” She looked around again, adding, “It was all I could afford after my divorce, but it was only a short walk to the dental office, so...”
Linda's voice trailed off as she climbed up a small stepladder that had been placed in front of the open hall closet. “So how did your last exam go?”
“Good, I submitted it last night.”
“Um, are you sure you don't want anything? A soda or...?”
“No, really—please—keep doing what you were doing,” Cady said awkwardly, because Linda was obviously buried here. Cady didn't want to stop her flow by forcing her to entertain her.
“All right, let me just grab this box,” Linda said, climbing the last step and reaching into the closet. As she started clearing items from the highest shelf, Cady made small talk.
“How's the packing coming so far?”
“Oh, good,” Linda called, her voice muffled bit by the deep recesses of the closet, “I should be cleared out of here and have whatever I need moved over to your dad's house in a few days.”
“It's your house, too,” Cady felt compelled to add. For some reason, she had the urge to make sure Linda knew that she was welcome—that her new stepdaughter wasn't merely tolerating her, but actually liked her.
She could tell that Linda appreciated the gesture by the warm smile she gave her as she descended the stepladder, carrying some painted glass jars. She managed to balance them, even though they were overflowing in her arms. “Cady, I'm really glad you're here—it will help cheer me up.”
“Why, what's wrong?” Cady asked curiously.
“Oh, it's nothing too bad,” Linda assured her, setting the jars down carefully on the kitchen table, then reaching for a roll of bubble-wrap. “I'm just a little down about Mick.”
As Linda tore off a few sheets of bubble-wrap, Cady's brows knitted with concern. “What about Mick?” she asked, hoping her face didn't betray how emotionally invested she was in Mick's well-being.
Linda looked up, pausing for only a moment, before she said, “Oh, I guess your father didn't tell you yet.”
“No, I haven't even ta
lked to my dad today,” Cady said, rising from the couch and walking closer into the kitchen.
“Oh, well, it's just that Mick's decided to spend Christmas in Hawaii.”
“What!” Cady blurted—then tried to dial back her dismay. “I mean, uh...”
Luckily, Linda didn't seem to notice Cady's overly-strong reaction. “Yes,” she scoffed, “Honolulu—his father's bright idea.” Shaking her head, she muttered under her breath, “It's like: grow up, Tony.”
While Linda bubble-wrapped one of the jars, Cady tried not to panic, even as the tide of longing that was rising in her swooped up even higher. “Well, when does Mick leave?” she asked.
“Today,” Linda replied, setting the jars, one by one, in the open cardboard box that was resting at her feet. “Mick texted me last night to tell me, so I called him first thing this morning. We couldn't talk long because he had an exam today.”
“But he's leaving today?” Cady double-checked, dread balling up in her stomach. “That's so sudden!”
“I know,” Linda grumbled. “I still haven't accepted the idea, but he's a grown man, I really can't tell him what to do for Christmas. And if his father is finally trying to build a relationship with him, I'm not going to butt in. Better late than never, I suppose.” Despite the reasonable words, Linda's lingering bitterness toward her ex-husband was evident.
“When's his flight?” Cady asked, her concern mounting.
“Later this afternoon. But he promised me that he'd stop by on his way to the airport, so he could say goodbye.” With that, Linda inhaled a breath and surveyed all the disarranged and still-unpacked contents of the room, remarking, “I'll certainly be here a while.”
Now Cady's mind went into full crisis mode. She couldn't sit around Linda's condo for an indeterminate amount of time just waiting for Mick to show, and then try to ambush him for a heart-to-heart talk. There would be no subtle way of doing that in front of Linda. And no way Cady could waste that time; her need to talk to Mick was too urgent.